


Keep the Record on Replay

by Twang_Jensen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1990's au, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, LGBT, Light BDSM, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Smut, artist!Cas, rockstar!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6172198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twang_Jensen/pseuds/Twang_Jensen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Winchester has been looking for his muse for far too long. When he ends up in a Chicago Coffee Shop and gets lost in a young Dean Winchester's eyes. Could Cas have finally found his muse?<br/>Through epic use of scenery, dialogue, characters, and romance I bring to you a sorrowfully beautiful romantic tale of an Artist and his Muse. And how love can heal us but it can also hurt us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep the Record on Replay

**Author's Note:**

> *I do not own the Supernatural franchise, nor the characters included in the tv series. This is in no way related to the main plot of the show, it's just an AU. Thank you*

It was a regular day, but it always starts out like that, right? The whole “true love” story. Well, this isn’t like all those chick flick, sappy, crappy romantic cliche stories, this one’s real. I’m giving you the whole sha-bang. All the nonromantic, sad, awful parts of a relationship that you should be lucky to experience. Because you loose people in a blink of an eye before you ever get to tell them everything you wanted to… But you can’t mope over the things you didn’t say and the stuff you didn’t do, because you’ll spend you’re entire life unhappy. I learned that from the smartest, bravest man I’ve ever had the sheer pleasure of loving. Dean Winchester.

 

Chicago 1994  
It was a late night for me, I had a test in two days and it could either make or break my future. I really wanted to get into this art program at the University of Chicago. If I didn’t make it in then I’d have to go back and live with my parents, which was something I didn’t want to do. So I waited it out, I kept my pencil on my sketch pad as I hopelessly looked for a muse. But I found no one in sight until my eyes locked on two green ones. 

I blush and I quickly advert my attention to my sketch book. After a few moments I look back up to the owner of the green eyes. It was a man, tall, muscular, gorgeous, He was wearing a leather jacket and some band t-shirt, AC/DC I think. I begin to make an outline of him. I didn’t want him to know I was drawing him, so I had to keep my glances short. My hand worked quickly on the page and I got most of the simple work done, I just needed detail. 

His hair was swept over and a little messy His eyes were as green as emeralds and his jawline could slice thin air in half. Every aspect of him I studied, trying to make my sketch the best it could be. But as I became so engrossed into my work I didn’t notice that the man was starring at me. He had a small smirk playing on his lips as our eyes meet. My entire body freezes up as I watch him walk over in my direction. I quickly close the sketchbook and straighten myself up. Oh God, here he comes.

The man cleared his throat, “Um, Hi. Are you a stalker or am I just that good looking?” He says with a chuckle. His eyes crinkled when he laughed. It was adorable.

“I-Um-I. I was just. I.” I couldn’t seem to fathom a sentence straight, “I was just taking in my options.” I finally spurt out, a little more confidently than I had planned. 

“Options? For what? Your next victim?” The man asks as he leans against the table, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Y-You could say that…” I smile, “Or you could call them a muse. I was looking for someone to draw for this art final I have…”

“Art final? You’re an art student? And out of everyone in this coffee shop you decide that I’m “muse” material?” He laughed out, “Alright, I can dig it. The name’s Dean. Dean Winchester.” He greets as he takes a seat across from me.

“Castiel Novak. But most people call me Cas.” I say softly as I pull down my sleeves around my hands, I was feeling anxious.

“Castiel? I like Castiel better than Cas, it’s more original.” Dean winks a little, “So… are you going to let me see this drawing of me?” he asked.

“It’s, uh, not done yet?” I say, unsure of what I should say, “I couldn’t really get all of your detail in from the distance you were from me. But now it’s much better.” I say as I get out my pencil and open my sketchbook.

“At least buy me dinner first before you go around painting me like one of your french girls.” He chuckled out as he sipped his coffee and looked at me. There was something about him that was addictive. Maybe it was the laugh? Or the confidence, but it was so luring that I couldn’t bare it.

“Eh, well we’ll see.” I say as I begin to sketch again. He sat perfectly still like he had been born to this all of his life. It was quiet breath taking if I had to be honest. Dean Winchester. He was mysterious, yes. But those eyes held a history of untold stories. I was willing to crack them.

A few hours later I had finished and I smiled before slowly turning the book and showing him, “There you go, Dean. That is you in the eyes of the beholder. I will gladly take your constructive criticism.” I smirk as I sit back anxiously and wait.

Dean looks it over a few times before he nods, impressed, “Well Novak, I gotta say you do have talent.” he grinned as he slid the sketchbook back over, “Just remember me when you get all famous.” he chuckled as he sipped his coffee.

“Don’t worry, I’m not that good. And I don’t think I ever will be.” I smile as I look at my watch, “Well, I got class in the morning. It was nice meeting you, Dean.” I say with a slight blush forming when his name escapes my lips.  
“The pleasure was all mine, Castiel.” Dean says as he sits back and sips his coffee before I get up and head out the door. It wasn’t until I was half way down the block before I realized that I wanted his number, badly. I struggle to open my sketchbook so I can tear off a piece of paper. But before I do I notice that there are digits scribbled under my drawing of Dean.  
“(606) 997-4456 call me- DW.”

My heart skipped a beat, he left me his number. We must have hit it off rather greatly. I catch the next bus to my apartment. My cheeks were on flames and my stomach was filled with butterflies. I didn’t know what was happening, I just knew the cause, Dean Winchester. His smirk, those freckles, the luring green eyes. Everything about him made me starstruck.

As I was riding on the bus, I couldn’t help my thoughts flow to uncanny things.  
‘What if he isn’t gay?’  
‘What if it was just to chat, or asked to be drawn again?’  
‘Cas, you’re over analyzing everything…’  
‘Or am I?’ ‘How could someone as attractive as him ever be somewhat attracted to me?’  
By the time the bus had arrived at my place, I was shaking. I sigh as I slowly jump off the bus and I go up to my apartment. I slip off my shoes and put on some Green Day and relaxed. I shouldn’t even think about things like this, they up my anxiety too much. I sigh as I go and I finish up a few papers before heading to bed.

Maybe I was wrong about Dean Winchester. Maybe he just wanted to be friends or he wanted to hang out with me because I was talented at something. Or maybe, he actually likes me and this was just the beginning of something special. That’s what I hope anyways.


End file.
